Hitch Hiking
by wowyoung
Summary: We're not supposed to pick up hitch hikers because they may be serial killers. However, serial killers often pick up and kill hitch hikers. Therefore has a serial killer ever picked up another serial killer and did they become best friends?
1. chapter 1

**"We're not supposed to pick up hitch hikers because they may be serial killers.** **However, serial killers often pick up and kill hitch hikers. Therefore has a serial killer ever picked up another serial killer and did they become best friends?"** **A/N I saw this and was like 'hmmm what ways can I take this and destroy peoples hearts and souls and minds by writing a weird interpretation of this??' So ya that's what I'll do XD**

It was a surprisingly long way to Pennsylvania. I had been driving for a what seemed like a long time—a couple days at most. I think I had been driving non-stop, but you never knew with me.

There were gaps in my memory, filled with confusing blurs and dark red, and I could only take a good guess at what had happened in the gaps.

Well, what could I say? I had to be getting this money from somewhere.

My hands tightened on the hands of the steering wheel, (from a truck I had most likely stolen; there was another memory gap there) and my stomach filled with a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness from the thought of what exactly had happened during those.

At the moment I thought I would have to pull over to the side of the road to get my shit back together, I saw something a little ways ahead.

Or _someone_ , more like.

They looked like they had on a dark-colored jacket, and some equally dark pants. They looked tall, too. Deliciously tall.

(Delicious? Really)

By the time I had observed all of these things, the truck had already come close to him, and it was about ten feet behind the guy when he suddenly stuck out a arm to me.

He wasn't even looking at the truck or the road as he did a thumbs up to me.

The symbol of a hitch hiker.

I found a goofy smile making its way onto my face—it had to of been making me look like an idiot or I was crazy, or both.

I loved hitch hikers.

My foot found the way to the brakes and suddenly I was stopped on the side of the road. My stomach was bubbling with some unknown feeling and I felt more giddy than usual. Like I was literally floating.

I was startled by a knock on the passenger side window. The hitch hikers face was peering in the window, motioning for me to unlock the door.

With fumbling hands, I managed to click the button to unlock the door, and the stranger hopped right in. Now that I wasn't looking at him through a tinted window, I could see his face clearly.

And holy fuck, he was beautiful.

 **A/N so that is an interesting first chapter. Thia is coming from literally nowhere this has no plan except a vague storyline I may or may noy stick to I hope yall like it**


	2. Not a chapter

**A/N DAN AND PHIL ARE GOING ON A FUCKING WORLD TOUR AND THEIR GONNA BE 44 MINUTES FROM MY JOUSE SHOULD I GIVE UP MY CHRISTMAS PRESENTS TO GO??** **IS ANYONE ELSE GONNA GO**


	3. So

A **/N I have decided to make this a one-shot instead of a full on chaptered fic, so this will be shorter, and I will publish the whole one shot next chapter. It might take a couple days, but I promise I wont keep you waiting any longer. I love you guys, so much.** **(Also, thank you Spyder_Pig for all the nice reviews you've left on my stories. Your so nice, you get your own special heart just for you)**

I'm **writing it as I type this**


	4. Hitch Hiking FINAL

It was a surprisingly long way to Pennsylvania. I had been driving for a what seemed like a long time—a couple days at most. I think I had been driving non-stop, but you never knew with me.

There were gaps in my memory, filled with confusing blurs and dark red, and I could only take a good guess at what had happened in the gaps.

Well, what could I say? I had to be getting this money from somewhere.

My hands tightened on the hands of the steering wheel, (from a truck I had most likely stolen; there was another memory gap there) and my stomach filled with a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness from the thought of what exactly had happened during those.

At the moment I thought I would have to pull over to the side of the road to get my shit back together, I saw something a little ways ahead.

Or _someone_ , more like.

They looked like they had on a dark-colored jacket, and some equally dark pants. They looked tall, too. Deliciously tall.

 _(Delicious? Really)_

By the time I had observed all of these things, the truck had already come close to him, and it was about ten feet behind the guy when he suddenly stuck out a arm to me.

He wasn't even looking at the truck or the road as he did a thumbs up to me.

The symbol of a hitch hiker.

I found a goofy smile making its way onto my face—it had to of been making me look like an idiot or I was crazy, or both.

I loved hitch hikers.

My foot found the way to the brakes and suddenly I was stopped on the side of the road. My stomach was bubbling with some unknown feeling and I felt more giddy than usual. Like I was literally floating.

I was startled by a knock on the passenger side window. The hitch hikers face was peering in the window, motioning for me to unlock the door.

With fumbling hands, I managed to click the button to unlock the door, and the stranger hopped right in. Now that I wasn't looking at him through a tinted window, I could see his face clearly.

And holy fuck, he was beautiful.

Blue eyes set into a pale face. A black fringe framed the man's face quite nicely. The intensity of his bright blue gaze made him look intimidating. And, of course, the glasses resting on his nose made him look like a nerd, but he was a cute nerd. His dark blue hoodie made his eyes stand out greatly, and his black skinny jeans were—just, fuck.

I was very lucky it was dark outside.

The stranger gave me a very strange look as I stared at him. I quickly made my face look as normal as I possibly could.

Fuck, what hitch hikers did to me.

"Can you take me to the closest store?" The stranger asked in a deep voice that complimented his features amazingly.

"Sure will. The problem is, I don't know this area very well, and I'll have to keep driving for a while until I find one, okay?" That was halfway the truth. I didn't know this area well, but I had just passed a store about ten miles back. But he didn't have to know that.

"Howell. Daniel James Howell, by the way. That's my name. " I added. "Dan, if you please."

The blue-eyed stranger nodded, but didn't say anything, just turned back to the front of the car and stared out the side window.

 _Take it he's not a talker,_ I thought to myself as I began to drive. **(A/N I'm not old enough to drive yet... so Idk anything about driving, so don't judge, please??)**

We had been driving for about twenty minutes in silence, and I wasn't going to lie: some creepy thoughts were already crossing my mind. I wanted to pull this car over and do things to him that I had done to so many people before. I felt like I could practically hear the blood pumping through his veins, ready to be spilled out on the dry grass we were driving past.

Just when I thought I was about to explode from these thoughts, the stranger spoke.

"Pull over right here." His sudden outburst surprised me.

"Okay," I shrugged, trying to blow it off. He was probably going to get out and walk himself. Which was good for me, because then I could get rid of these thrilling thoughts, even though I somewhat enjoyed them.

But he didn't open the door and get out when I stopped the car. He just turned to me and smiled a strange smile that sent shivers down my spine.

"You already know my name, now don't you?" He said in a deep, kind of sexy voice, leaning a little closer to me. There was something in his eyes that immediately made my instincts kick in and I froze.

"I'm pretty sure I don't." I said. I knew this type of hitch hiker. They were very strange, and were most likely high or drunk. But he didn't smell like he was on anything. He was probably just very not sane, like myself.

"I know you do. Everybody knows my name." He smiled even wider, and I saw, out of the corner of my eye, that his hand was slowly reaching behind him.

I realized what was happening, and in a flash, I had grabbed my gun from where I had last stashed it and it was pressed against his forehead.

He didn't seemed fazed, and that deeply annoyed me.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice coming out much more like a growl than the whisper I had attempted. "Just spit it out."

He smirked. "I was trying to come off as terrifying, but you obviously don't seem to be very terrified." He stuck out a hand, as if he wanted a handshake. "Lester. Phillip Michael Lester. That's my name. Phil, if you please."

I was slightly surprised he had used my line, but I was more shocked than anything.

Holy shit, I was sitting in front of Phillip Micheal Lester. P.M.L. _The P.M.L._ One of the most known,and best, serial killers in America.

Wow.

I felt a bit threatened by him now, but I didn't show it, pressing my gun harder against his forehead.

"And I know you too." Newly named Phil spoke, a playful glint in his eyes. "You're rising up in America. Almost beating me." He seemed mildly surprised by this fact. "Never thought a rookie would almost beat me."

I felt a hot flash of anger, and I had to tighten my grip on the gun to hold myself together. "I am not a rookie."

"How long have you been doing this for?" Phil asked nonchalantly.

"About a year." I answered with fire in my voice.

"Rookie." Phil teased.

"I have a gun." I said lightly, my voice starting to take on the teasing tone Phil's had.

In a flash, a knife was pressed against my neck, and Phil's grinning face was closer to mine. "And I have a knife." He whispered in a dangerously sexy voice.

"I noticed." I whispered, beginning to feel a blush rise up on my cheeks.

Phil smiled again—he was a smiler—and his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth. It was pretty cute.

"I like you." Phil stated. "You seem like a nice kid. Shame you had to go into the serial killing business."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, a whine slipping into my voice. "I wanted to do this."

"What do you say we join up?" Phil suggested hurridly, an excited grin popping up on his face. "We combine forces, become a team. We seem to be getting along already. Form a flirtationship?"

I smirked. I like Phil already. "Sure, let's."

Ah, serial killer language is weird.

And that's how I met Phil.

So we became a team: him being the widely known Phillip Micheal Lester (P.M.L.), and me being the mysterious nameless Mr. Nobody. Everybody knew Phil's name yet no one knew his face, while everybody knew my face (I mean, come on, my face _was_ kinda near every police station across America) but no one knew my name.

That's one of the advantages of having all of your family die and having no friends. There's no one to identify you when you go insane.

Also, I had my ways of being able to erase my face from any records. _(*insert winky face*)_

So, anyway, back on topic. Me and Phil became a team of two ruthless serial killers, killing together without a second thought until it became known throughout America that we were partners.

I still remember the first kill that happened when we were partners together. It was some random people we had stumbled across, and they had recognized my face immediately. (That's what comes from not covering your face up, idiot!) What happened had to be done, and the feeling that it gave me was amazing. I could still see Phil writing his signature across the alley wall in their blood.

 _P.M.L_.

It was beautiful to watch as he dipped his fingers in the red substance and rubbed them againsg the wall until it vaguely had the three letters scrawled in messy handwriting.

He had no idea how much it had turned me on.

Many more kills occurs after that first one. We worked well together, and after each kill, we fell asleep in the back of the truck, pressed close together for warmth in the cold air. He would always sling his arm around me in the middle of his sleep, pulling me close to his chest, and I would just stare at his beauty until he woke up. Sometimes, there was still even and smear of blood on his cheek or forehead...

I loved those nights.

Somewhere along the way, the cuddles turned into never ending hugs and small kisses on cheeks and foreheads, and, eventually, their "flirtationship" turned into something more.

An actual relationship.

There would be stolen kisses on the cheek after a kill, and hugs that lasted too long to be normal when they woke up after it.

I still remembered the first time he kissed me. For real. On the lips. That kind of kiss.

We had just had a particularly thrilling kill, and I guess it was just the heat of the momemt, but Phil had suddenly grabbed me and pressed his lips against mine, his hands coming to rest on my waist.

I had of course kissed back.

He had somehow gotten blood on his lips from the kill, and I could feel its sticky texture against my lips and taste it, salty and iron, on the tip of my tongue. **(A/N sorry if this is slightly disturbing)**

It was amazing.

And our relationship only grew from there.

Phil and I grew pretty close in the span of a year, sticking together through everything. In fact I think our love, in a way, tamed us a little bit.

The killings slowly faded away to about one victim a month, which was a huge cutdown to what it had been before. I slowly began to take on the personality I had when my parents were still alive: bubbly and carefree, and most of all, normal.

Everything seemed normal.

We couldn't settle down into a normal life, what with who we were and all, so we decided that moving to the UK was in our best interests.

In the UK, we finally found normal lives: no killings every werk, no running from the police, no hiding in the truck at night.

Just me and him, and our happiness.

Until, one day, I get the taste for blood all over again.

 **A/N ooh cliff hanger :o I hope y'all liked it, and if y'all liked it, give me a thumbs up and subscribe!** **Aah I humour myself.** **Anyway, if y'all actually did like it, I WILL... GIVE YOU MY LOVE this is all I do with my life aye aye aye. THIS WILL DIE ALONG WITH MY GRADES.**


End file.
